


5+1: Race saving the day, and one day Race gets saved

by kosmokuns



Series: race sorting everything out for a few thousand words [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 5+1 Things, ADHD Racetrack Higgins, AY I FINALLY WROTE ONE, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Is Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oh, Panic Attacks, This is a, and, and a, and a lil bit of, and davey and jack are 18, and race is 17, bc fucking fight me, bc it be like that, but for one line, it's basically race looking after everyone, there are fights okay, there is, with a dash of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosmokuns/pseuds/kosmokuns
Summary: 5 times Race helps his brothers, and one time they help himi wrote this bc i love race so much and he's a big bro
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: race sorting everything out for a few thousand words [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652494
Comments: 8
Kudos: 126





	5+1: Race saving the day, and one day Race gets saved

**Author's Note:**

> race is aged up to 17 so he can be a big bro. davey and jack are 18. tw/ panic attack.

_i: jack_

Jack was exhausted, his eyelids felt like they were being pulled down by bricks and his joints ached, he swore he heard them creak as he walked. It was a Friday, and although he knew they still had weekend selling to do, Saturdays and Sundays weren’t nearly as bad as the week. He’d been dealing with all sorts of issues since Monday, a sick younger newsie, quarrels over turf with Queens and even a fistfight with some Woodside boys asking for trouble. Finch still had a purple face. He just wanted a rest, and a full ten hours of sleep.

“Jeez Jack, you look awful,” Romeo said as he stumbled into the lodgings. He stood up from the bench he was sitting at and hurried over, looking him up and down and steadying him with an arm on his bicep, “You need to go to bed,” He remarked, “Otherwise you’ll get sick,”

Jack held up a hand in acknowledgement, “Yeah I know,” He walked over to the bench in the dining hall where Romeo had been sitting and slumped down, “Can you get Race for me?”

Romeo nodded and squeezed his shoulder tightly, leaving him with his head in his hands at the table. He desperately needed new shoes, he could feel the water pooling in them, and he knew he couldn’t risk any kind of infection. It wasn’t the time of the year to be getting ill, food was becoming scarcer by the week. A loud bang awoke Jack from his reverie, and he looked up to see Race standing at the bottom of the stairs, usual grin replaced with a worried frown,

“Hey Jack, what’s wrong?” He said, rushing over and hitting his shoulder on the doorframe in the process. It seemed like he didn’t even feel it,

“I just need a long sleep, Racer, then I’ll be fine. Could you deal with the littles and stay on duty tonight for me?” Jack asked, rubbing his forehead with his hand. Race bit his lip contemplating,

“Yeah Jack, you look like you could drop dead, I’ll take your duty,”

Every night one of the older newsies took a turn on ‘duty’, making sure that no one was sneaking out of the lodgings past 8pm. Mind you, Race had been sneaking to Brooklyn since before he was 15, but he was certain that the boys were choosing to look in another direction when they heard him leave. There were enough newsies that usually duty only happened once every two weeks, and Race had been on Wednesday, though he was Jack’s second-in-command, this was the kind of situation he was for.

“Thanks Race, I owe you,” Jack said, relieved, as he got up, bench scraping the wooden floor. He made his way up the stairs and Race called out,

“You always do and always will!”

Jack laughed and shook his head, slowly making his way up the stairs.

_ii: bry_

Race put the littles down easily, like Jack, they were tired after a long week of selling and it didn’t take much persuasion for them to get in bed and stay there. As usual Rags took some coercion, but even she fell asleep minutes after Race switched out the lights. He checked on them after ten minutes then made his way to the so-called duty chair to take up his post at 8. The duty chair was situated just under the stairs, hidden in the gloom of the house. It gave the person sitting on it perfect view up the staircase to see if anyone was sneaking around, and a perfect position to spook someone trying to sneak out the front door. Some boys hated duty, not being able to sit still, and others loved it. Race knew for a fact that Mush would sit there for hours doing his knitting, while Jojo could easily destroy the hems of his shirt from boredom. Race personally enjoyed it. He would sit there doing maths and physics equations he’d copied out of Davey’s textbooks on a notebook that Spot had got him and watch for any of the known troublemakers and note down the new ones.

He pulled out his equations and settled in the night, a keen ear listening for any disturbances. The older newsies didn’t have to go to bed until 9:30, yes they were the earliest borough to go to bed but they were also the healthiest borough so Jack refused to move it, and some of the boys would try to sneak out in the chaos after dinner and before bedtime. In Race’s opinion that was the worst time to leave because the cops were always crawling the streets in those hours and experienced newsies knew this, so mostly he would be stopping first-timers and fourteen-year-olds. It suited him just fine.

The first person he caught was Benno, Davey had named him after a character in Swan Lake, who was not quiet or smart about leaving and Race sent him straight back to his room after a mild warning. He knew the kid was seeing someone in Woodside and they could easily see each other in the day, he was too young to be going out at night.

The hours ticked by to 10pm and Race had finished all the equations. He lounged in the chair, looking for something to do until he decided to check the rooms to make sure everyone was asleep. Creeping up the stairs, he first checked on the littles who were all snug in their beds, then he checked the kids a bit older than them and they, too, were fast asleep. He climbed the second flight of stairs to where they put the twelve to fourteen year olds and poked his head into the first room. He stifled a laugh at the ‘KEEP OUT’ which had been engraved on the door, remembering when Albert had put it there because Race kept crawling into his bed in the night. All was well in that room. He went into the next room, it had two bunk beds pressed to either side of the wall and the window wide open. Picking his way across the room, he shut it silently, observed all the boys were asleep and left. He checked all the others before reaching the final room at the end of the corridor, he opened it gently, knowing that it squeaked, and surveyed the beds. One kid was missing. Bry was missing. Race mentally smacked himself, he should’ve paid more attention. He hurried back along the corridor, cursing himself out,

“Race? Is that you,” A voice called into the darkness, it was hoarse and thick with tears, and it was definitely Bry. He came to a halt,

“Yeah, it’s me kid, where are you?” He replied softly and Bry materialised out of the black, face splotchy red and body shaking. Race hummed sympathetically and tugged him into a tight hug, arms winding around his shoulders, “Let’s go downstairs,” He whispered and felt Bry nod into his shoulder.

Once settled with a blanket and a glass of water, Bry began to cheer up. Sitting silently in Race’s presence, he made no move to speak, just sipped his water, skin turning back to its usual pale Irish complexion. Race sighed,

“I’m sorry kid, but you know I gotta ask what happened to make you so upset,” He was perched across from Bry, elbows resting on the table, making eye contact. Bry studied the floor and shifted in his seat, taking another sip of his water,

“It’s nothin’,” He replied, Race reached over and squeezed his left hand,

“That’s not how we do things around here, you want no questions asked you go to Flushing, but we ain’t like that. So, let me ask you again, what’s got you so upset?”

“It’s stupid,” Bry mumbled, curling into the blanket,

“Hey,” Race said, grabbing his chin to look into his eyes, “None of my boys’ problems is ever stupid,” He enunciated every word, driving his point home. Bry swallowed thickly,

“I just saw some…,” He pauses, “Stuff down at the docks that was worrying me,”

“First of all, Brooklyn ain’t a good place to be on a Friday, understand? You stay clear of there,”

“Of course, you would know,” Bry snapped back, pulling the blanket around his shoulders.

Even though he was shocked, Race pulled an iron curtain over his face, “No,” He said, “No matter how upset you are you do not take it out on me or anyone else. We don’t speak to each other like that, we’s family,” He sent him a strong glare, and Bry sank back into his chair. Race let his words hold the space between them, then continued, “Second of all, what kinda stuff you saw?”

Bry inhaled deeply and wrung his hands, closing his eyes, “It started off as a fight, and I thought that’s normal, so I left it, I continued sellin’. The next time I turn around,” He whimpered, and Race rubbed his shoulder, “The next time I turn around there’s one guy lying on the floor, his whole body covered in blood, pools of blood around him. He was wearing a white shirt before, I know cuz I saw, and then it was completely red, and no one in sight,” He choked back a sob, pressing a hand to his mouth,

“It’s okay, kid,” Race whispered and climbed over to sit next to him, cradling him in his arms,

“Race I coulda ran for Brooklyn, they coulda stopped it but now he’s dead,” Bry cried, “What if he had a family?!”

“Hey, none of that,” Race shushed him, “Brooklyn don’t get involved in sailors fights as a rule, there was nothing you could have done,”

“I coulda, though Race, I coulda, the cops or something,”

“No, Bry, there was nothing you could have done,” Race said firmly, “I love you, there’s nothing you coulda done,”

“I love you too, Racer,” He said, soft, wet eyes peering up at Race,

“Now go to sleep, you’ve got work tomorrow,”

“Aye sir!”

“Bryan O’Reilly!” Race joked, and Bry cracked a weak smile, hurrying off to bed.

_iii: jojo_

“Everybody watch out!” Albert shouted and sent the littles scurrying away from the door as he brought a bleeding Jojo through, red crusting on his lips and eyebrow.

“What the fuck, Jojo,” Race said, scanning the deep gash diagonal over his right eyebrow and split bottom lip,

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” He gritted out, one arm over Albert’s shoulder, who was obviously struggling under Jojo’s weight,

Jack’s loud voice boomed down the stairs as he ambled down them, mussing the littles’ hair, “What’s going on,” He said,

“I ran into a pole,” Jojo admitted, creaking his aching body into a chair, “I got blood in my eye,”

Jack surveyed him, unimpressed, “You’re the dumbest kid I ever known,”

Albert and Race met eyes, both attempting not to laugh, Albert shoving a hand over his mouth,

“Yeah I bet you all find it hilarious,” Jojo bit out. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose,

“You two, shut up,” He said, and they both immediately went silent, “Albert, go get something to clean up this wound, Racer, go to Brooklyn and get Doc, we’s gonna need him,”

“On it,” They both replied and sped off in opposite directions, Albert tearing up the stairs and Race slamming the door behind him as he ran for the Brooklyn Bridge.

It took him a shorter amount of time than usual pelting towards the Brooklyn lodgings and when he arrived his was ready to heave his lungs out. Spot was sitting on the steps out front with a cigarette he undoubtedly stole, his face turned up to the crisp winter sun, when he heard Race’s laboured breathing, he turned to look at him,

“Christ Race, what’s going on?” He said, squinting,

“Jojo ran into a pole… massive cut… need Doc,” He got out between pants and Spot grumbled, grinding his cigarette into the ground,

“I’ll get you Doc, wait here,”

Five minutes later he appeared with a tall hispanic boy with worried tawny eyes, “Jojo got hurt? Again?” He questioned,

Race rolled his eyes, “Yeah again, follow me,”

The two of them trotted off, Doc holding a briefcase of medical supplies and Race worriedly picking at the skin under his nails.

Once they reached the boarding house Doc rapidly set to work on Jojo’s cut, stitching his skin together skilfully. Satisfied, he sat back on his knees,

“Don’t get them wet,” He said in his thick Brooklyn accent, then snapped his case together and left.

“Thanks Racer,” Jojo said blearily, pain making it tired, “I always knew your relationship with Spot would save my life one day,”

Race laughed, “Shut up.”

_iv: tommy boy_

Sliding down the wall and slumping down the floor, Tommy put his head between his knees. His head was spinning, and his hands were shaking, and his breath was coming out in quick, short heaves. He felt like he was dying, his chest rising up and down at an alarming rate. A hand pressed hard into his shoulder and Race knelt down in front of him,

“Tommy, you’re having a panic attack, you aren’t dying, you’re going to be fine,” He said, face cemented into an assured expression, “Four counts in, four counts out, breathe with me,” Race instructed, exaggerating his chest movements,

Tommy tried to, then spluttered, choking, “I can’t Racer,”

“Yes, you can, just like me, Tommy,” He replied, and kept doing the same steady breathing. Tommy’s frantic eyes bored into his, desperately trying to match him. Eventually Tommy managed to do it, his heart was still racing, and his hands were shaking, but he could breathe again,

“What the hell was that,” Tommy’s voice scraped in his throat, leaning back against the wall, he squeezed his hands into fists to stop them from shaking,

“I heard Medda call it a panic attack,” Racer replied, “When you get overwhelmed and stressed, they happen sometimes, she said,”

Tommy huffed, “I ain’t never had one before,”

“Yeah well, lots of the boys here have had them. I’ve had them, and they suck, I learned some techniques to try and stop them if you want?” Race suggested, tilting his head to the side. Tommy exhaled shakily,

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

_v: fio_

Race knew that one of the sixteen-year-old newsies had been keeping an eye on him for the past couple of weeks. The kid hadn’t said anything, but Race knew he was there. He picked a selling spot near him and sat a few seats away at dinner. The kid was trying to work up the courage to speak to him, Race knew, but he was getting so fed up that he felt like going to ask what was up. Nowadays Race has a bigger responsibility with helping out with the boys while Jack ran their ‘foreign policy’ and illustrated for the paper and he really enjoyed it, he loved being a shoulder to cry on and someone to trust for the newsies. He was even thinking of getting into some sort of caring job when he left the lodgings, Davey’s mom was a nurse, so he thought he could work with her.

It was a Wednesday night, and having some free time, Race made his move to speak to this boy. He cornered him after dinner in their lounge room where the newsies relaxed on some threadbare couches,

“Hey Fio, come speak to me for a moment?” Race leaned around the doorframe and peaked his head into the room where a group of boys were cuddled up on the couch and the floor. Fio’s eyes snapped towards him, anguished with worry, and he noiselessly made his way towards Race as the rest of the group called out teases after him,

“Fio’s done something naughty,” One called out in a sing-song voice, laughing. Race held the door open for Fio, then spun on his heel to face them, clutching the doorknob. He knew he’d got a reputation for telling people off because he wasn’t as a soft as Jack and wasn’t going to let them get away with anything, the newsies, of course, slightly resented him for this, but he ignored them. It was for their own good,

“The only person that’s done something naughty is you,” He said, “Be kind to your friends,”

The group covered their mouths, scandalised and someone punched the kid in the shoulder. Race smiled smugly as he shut the door behind him, that taught him not to mess around.

Fio stood anxiously behind him in the corridor, readjusting his waistcoat over and over again. Race took pity on him,

“You aren’t in any trouble,” He said, “I just wanna know what’s up,”

“Oh thank God,” Fio said, “I been meaning to ask you, I seein’ someone in Brooklyn. It ain’t very serious yet, but out of all of us you know Brooklyn best and I am a traditional sorta guy so I wanted to ask your blessing before I go any further,”

Taken aback, and maybe touched, Race laid a hand on Fio’s shoulder, “Of course you have my blessing, Fio, I know you’re going to be a great man. If you don’t mind, who is you seeing?”

Fio bit his lip, “Leaf,” He replied quietly, “We both speak Italian and he’s super funny and reminds me of home. I really like him,”

Race smiled, his dazzling blue eyes glinting in the light, “Then you definitely have my blessing, kid,”

_\+ one_

Race stumbled into the lodgings at 11pm on a Thursday, which was frankly unheard of, with his hair matted on his head and blood drying on his knuckles. Davey was on duty, studying a book and writing notes in the margins, at the sound of the door he startled, the book clattering to the floor,

“Holy shit, Racer what happened to you?” He exclaimed quietly so not to wake the whole house. Walked forward towards Davey, Race winced when he put weight on his right knee,

“Saw my dad, didn’t go well,” He said, tripping. Davey flung out his arms and caught him just before he hit the floor, saving Race from even more bruises than he already had,

“Go sit down, Antonio,” Davey pressed a hand to his cheek, “It’s going to be okay, I’m going to get Jack,” Race crawled towards a chair and rolled into it, his entire body going limp, “And don’t fall asleep yet,” Davey warned from half way to the stairs.

He returned seconds later with Jack, who had worry written into every crevice of his face. Kneeling down, he laid a hand on Race’s knee,

“Who did this?” He asked lowly and Race gulped, looking to the ceiling,

“My dad,” He replied, “But Jack it’s fine,”

“No it ain’t, Antonio, this is what we call unacceptable,” He examined the purple bruise spreading across Race’s bicep and the scratches on his neck and the perfect slit cut just above his left eye, “You ain’t got concussion,” Jack remarked, “But you are injured badly,”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” Race grumbled, and Jack sent him a warning glare. Davey chewed on his nails, shocked at the state of him,

“What did he want?” Davey asked, kneeling next to Jack,

“He just wanted a fight. I think he was drunk, kept yelling about how I’m a queer so I punched him,”

Davey put his head in his hands, “Toni, we talked about this,”

“Yeah we did, but there wasn’t another way to get him to shut up,” Race responded, exasperated. He moved to a sitting up position on the couch, “Can I go to bed? we can talk about this in the morning,”

Jack and Davey shared a look, “You can come to our bed,” Davey said,

“What?” Race’s mouth opened with disbelief,

Jack grinned, “We’ll sandwich you,”

“No way that is happening, I’m seventeen,” Race said, shaking his head.

Race fell asleep sandwiched between Jack and Davey, comforted by the pressure of two people around him, and in the morning, they talked it out, and Race never saw his father again. He was sure Spot had something to do with that though.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!! pls drop me a comment, i am a very needy human being. check out my twitter @sebdarlins if you want, im v friendly!!


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